


Baileys Kahlua and Whip [Party Boys!]

by asfddsfe (TheCohort)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: 4+1 fic, Alternate Universe - College/University, Baze is only a little bit better, Chirrut is a hot drunk mess, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Public Sex, because everyone is dunk and impulsively hooking up, tagging for possible dub-con, the lazy man's 5+1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCohort/pseuds/asfddsfe
Summary: Four times Baze and Chirrut met drunk, and the one time they met sober.-A round of cheers, drunk mothers with glasses held high as Chirrut slid off the stool and turned into a wiggly line of short college student. Baze, Tynnra, and her girlfriend all watched Chirrut warily as he steadied himself.And then he grabbed the stool, standing like an old man with a cheap walker. He giggled."Jesus Christ, Chirrut." Tynnra groaned. "How many shots?""Ah…tequila and blow jobs?" Chirrut answered instead, but it was answer enough.





	Baileys Kahlua and Whip [Party Boys!]

**Author's Note:**

> Huge shout-out to [Millenial_Falcon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/millenial_falcon/pseuds/millenial_falcon) and [Its-shitpost](https://its-shitpost.tumblr.com/) for bouncing ideas around with me and providing the drunken tales that inspired this story. A big thank you to [senetor-organa](http://senator-organa.tumblr.com/) for not only providing the cafe and location ideas, but drawing a blueprint of the cafe for me. It's not obvious in the fic, but it helped a lot to have an image in mind! Unfortunately a lot of the theoretical world-building (does it count as world building if the world is a real life place???) got cut due to me wanting to get this beast finished (finally). All locations are based on places I've either been to or locations in Ann Arbor/U of M area. Sometimes I fused multiple places. Authenticity is not likely. There IS a gay bar named Aut, and in the morning it serves damn good food. 10/10 would recommend.
> 
> A very tentative _MIGHT_ work on a sequel just so I can use the environment, and flesh this version of the boys out a bit more. And because this was the most fun I've ever had writing smut. lol
> 
> If you like visuals with your fic, might I suggest this lovely twitter post:  
> https://twitter.com/arthurdent_v/status/854958882883371008
> 
> Further info/eta: If you are interested in trying a blowjob shot the ingredients are in the title, and the prep is here if you want more details:  
> http://cocktails.foodviva.com/shot-recipes/blow-job-shot/  
> And if you aren't that interested just know you're supposed to take the shot without using your hands ;D

TODAY - 7:52 AM

Baze's stomach was a churning pit of despair. His teeth tasted like the last traces of the pepto-bismol tablets he'd chewed earlier, his tongue was sour with the taste of old bile and sprite, and the customer shuffling in front of him with a pinched grimace looked, against all odds, to be more hungover than he was. The young man, a student probably, had sunglasses hiding his eyes despite the dimly lit cafe, the bruised bags beneath his eyes peaking out from the bottom of the lenses. The baggage of a late night. He was cute. And when he opened his mouth to speak Baze felt an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach. Probably related more to his own hangover than the voice asking, "Have we met before?"

Baze frowned. Un-sticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth and ignoring the sudden sense of déjà vu. "Has that line ever worked?"

The young man smiled, close-mouthed but wide, head tilted to the side as if in a peaceful moment of thought. "You'll have to let me know, you're the first I've used it on."

Baze scowled. "What do you want?"

Baze wrote down the order, a chocolate zombie with 2 extra shots, he was definitely hungover. He didn't think he did know this kid, but that nagging sense of familiarity continued through taking his cash and waving him over toward the pick up counter. He couldn't help but glance toward the customer's back as he walked away, eyes snagging on where the loose cloth of the bohemian chique yoga pants draped over the guy's ass. His stomach chured uncomfortably at the flash of attraction. He watched the guy take his drink when it was set out, watched him slowly navigate toward the corner and whip out an extension cord like a pro. Baze scrunched his eyes closed, ignoring the dull throb behind the sockets and opening his eyes to regard the next customer.

And the thing of it was, even as he went through the motions, swapping places with his coworker to take over making the drinks for a while, mechanically mixing latte, then cappuccino, then latte, is that the déjà vu sense wasn't leaving. It wouldn't give up. That irritating itch had dug its claws into the meat of his brain. Baze had the briefest memory of hands sliding across his chest, warm breath in his ear.

Baze took a quick glance at the customer over the silver top of the milk frother. They _were_ both hungover. Baze groaned. He sincerely hoped it wasn't the guy he'd almost hooked up with last night. He'd cut their unsatisfying make-out short and stumbled the whole 2 miles back to his place. He squinted back up into the shop. Was it? Had he figured out where Baze worked to passive aggressively bother him all day? He hadn't seemed that petty last night. He'd been nice just not…what Baze wanted.

_"Have we met before?"_ Baze snorted. Ridiculous.

Baze was thankfully setting down a capped coffee when the customer from before gave a sudden shout. A breathy "Oh!" that made Baze's fingers fumble and clench around the card stock cup, a mostly harmless splash of coffee from the spout splashing against the skin between his thumb and first knuckle.

He shot the boy a dirty look.

The boy was gaping, sunglasses slipping down his nose to reveal cool blue eyes as he gaped toward Baze. "You're the hot boy!"

 

  
II SATURDAY - _three weeks ago_

The evening was still pretty warm, the brick wall of the bar barely any cooler then the night around it.

"Baze, man, you got a light?" Baze handed his classmate a lighter. Jeb laughed. "Thanks man. Ha. Baze it."

Baze took a long drag of his own blunt and let it out in a slow river of smoke. "I've never heard that one before."

Jeb gave a nervous laugh, handing the lighter back and taking a shaky inhale. Baze watched the guys twitchy fingers, and wondered what else he was on tonight before the unsettling thought was interrupted by the slamming of the bar doors and a pair of women spilling out of the bar. "Chirrut?" One of them asked the loitering smokers loudly.

A tall dark woman stood on her toes, looking over the small crowd like the added inch might help. "Has anyone seen a shorter guy? Wearing an ugly pink tank top?"

No one said anything. The woman huffed and pulled out her phone. Her dead phone, if the following string of curses was any indicator. She turned to her friend who shook her head. "All right!" The woman said in a commanding voice. The confidence of one well on their way to drunk. "Whose got a cell phone we could borrow?"

The crowd continued smoking in silence, all eyes on the woman.

"Come on! You can't tell me none of you's got one. I know this bar's a hipster shit-hole but none of you are _that_ edgy."

Beside him Jeb snorted, probably in offense, the flashy fucker, and elbowed Baze in the ribs. "One for you and one for me, eh?" he whispered.

Baze rolled his eyes and pulled away, handing his cheapy phone over silently and ignoring the unwanted tag along his classmate had become. "Thank you." The woman snapped, her voice sounding too frazzled to show gratitude. Her nails tapped loudly against the screen of his phone. He waited, listening as she cursed, her soft relieved sigh when her friend picked up the phone. "Chirrut? Chirrut where did you go?"

She bit her lip, frowning in confusion. "There's what?" She listened, mouth open, "You what?"

"What's he saying?" Her girlfriend asked, voice slightly slurred.

"Nothing useful, he said he danced in a cage and ate a burrito." Baze couldn't help the rise of his brows. That sounded…intriguing to say the least. "Honey," the woman crooned, "I don't know where you are." and then she began wandering away, Baze's phone clutched in her hand and voice asking, "all right, and then what did you do?"

"Oi!" Baze shouted, arms spread. He was ignored and reluctantly he followed, listening to this side of the conversation and putting together a couple clues. "Your friend's at Aut."

The woman didn't listen but her friend did, pausing to glance over her shoulder. "What?"

"Aut Bar." Baze said shortly, taking another drag of smoke. "On Brown road?"

"How on earth did you get there?" The woman on the phone yelped. Her pace quickened as she asked another question, clearly planning to follow the path her friend had taken. Baze sighed and followed. He hadn't been in a while. Might be good to check it out again.  
  
It was getting late enough that when the pair of women, and Baze the unwilling tag-along arrived there were very few people outside. The cover fee had lowered, though the bouncer refused to let them in without, no matter how loudly the woman still clutching Baze's phone insisted they just needed to find their friend. Baze had gotten so tired of listening to her argue he'd ended up forking over the money himself, watching the 10 dollar bill disappear into the bouncer's lock box with a pang of regret. Inside the bar the place was mostly empty but for a few stragglers on the dance floor and a crowd of women at the bar.

The woman stood, just inside the doorway frowning into the blue lit room. Baze suppressed a groan. The brat had probably wandered to the next bar while they'd walked.

Over the sound of the top 40 remix, a loud cackling laugh echoed through the room.

The woman jerked on her feet, spinning toward the bar; her gaze was easy to follow. The young man howling with laughter at the bar was hard to miss. The group of women at the bar seemed to be surrounding _him_ specifically. Baze frowned. They all seemed…too old for the bar. Cougars? In a gay bar? Baze winced and followed the woman, who had given a frustrated shout of "Chirrut!" and begun ranting about  _the buddy system_ when drinking. 

Chirrut grinned as they approached. His face looking lax with alcohol. "Tynny!" He said, fluttering his eyelashes over cool blue eyes. The lights flashed from the dance floor, pink flashing over his eyes to turn them purple and highlight the obvious cataracts. Baze huffed. Reluctantly impressed with the trouble the young man managed to get into. Chirrut ignored the scolding tone his friend had taken and said, "Meet my new friends this is..." he paused a long moment, hand hovering in front of the woman to his right. "Matilda." She laughed and Baze got the impression that was _not_  her real name. "And Jessica, Kathy,- we've got Marlene," he said with a widening grin as he moved on to gesture toward the women on his other side, "Lisa, and Devon."

Lisa giggled faintly into her drink as Chirrut leaned even farther toward "Tynny" to confide, "We did _shots_."

His friend sighed, crossing her arms and looking over the whole spectacle with reluctant fondness.

"Can I have my phone back now?" Baze growled.

Baze pocketed his phone as fast as he could. As if she might ask for it again. Bright blue eyes flashed his way, straight eyebrows furrowed as Chirrut wobbled in his seat. "Tynnra! I don't know this one." He seemed to not be too worried about it though, waving the newcomers closer. "We're celebrating." he waved a hand, "It's their 20 years high school reunion!" He was grinning again. Lips pulled far over his teeth to flash bright pink gums for all to see. "Tynny." he said, tone suddenly serious. "I hope we're still friends when we have our 20 year reunion."

"We just met last semester." Tynnra deadpanned.

Chirrut nodded slowly. "I'm drunk." He spun quickly on his stool, hands slapping the bar top as he flung forward. "Ladies. It seems I'm to be…gone soon. Thank you for the blow jobs."

A round of cheers, drunk mothers with glasses held high as Chirrut slid off the stool and turned into a wiggly line of short college student. Baze, Tynnra, and her girlfriend all watched Chirrut warily as he steadied himself.

And then he grabbed the stool, standing like an old man with a cheap walker. He giggled.

"Jesus Christ, Chirrut." Tynnra groaned. "How many shots?"

"Ah…tequila and blow jobs?" Chirrut answered instead, but it was answer enough.

And then Baze realized he should have left as soon as his phone had been handed back over. All eyes turned to him. 6 pairs of drunken middle aged eyes squinted at him through the dim lighting of the club. Chirrut's grin seemed wicked and Tynnra looked ready to fight. Her girlfriend was looking pointedly to the sticky floor.

"Please help me get him out of here." She said, a demand disguised as a request, her voice thick and sweet like honey. Someone, Baze wanted to say Marlene, cooed, and Baze suddenly wanted to get out of there before they could ask him to help _them_ home.

Baze eyed up the wobbly student. Considered the relative size of the guy and sighed. He pushed Chirrut back into his seat, getting a crooked smile for his trouble. Chirrut said nothing as Baze easily pushed his thighs open, grabbed his hands and lifted them in the air where Chirrut agreeably left them hanging, either understanding what Baze wanted or playing a different game altogether in his mind.

Baze easily crouched and grabbed the slighter boy by the thighs, hefting him up onto his back, and promptly strode through the small club and out the door, Tynnra's elegant boots clipping against the tile floor after him. Chirrut was giggling into his ear the whole way, and the cool air of the night seemed to bring them both back to the moment. The dull fuzz of his earlier smoke fading enough to make him wonder what he was doing, and Chirrut's drunken mumbling coming to a halt. Chirrut's arms tightened around his shoulders, his folded cane pressing uncomfortably into his throat. The two women stepped up to them and Baze turned his head, looking into Tynnra's amused face. "Where's your car?"

She wagged a finger and set off, Baze following behind and Tynnra's girlfriend shooting him funny looks from her position at his left. It was a longer walk than Baze would have liked, Chirrut's small size was deceptive, his weight fitting the muscles obvious in his arms and thighs. If Baze had spared the time to notice in the bar he might have just flung an arm over his shoulder and let the guy hobble for a while. His weight was beginning to drag, catching at the waistband of Baze's jeans and making them slip lower than comfortable. He hefted the body higher up his back.

Chirrut gasped a soft, "oh." into his ear. "Maybe don't…tequila." was all the words he had in explanation.

"Do not throw up on me." Baze groaned.

"Hah." Chirrut's breath smelled like alcohol, his voice buzzing through his chest and into Baze's back. "No. No not that. It's fine. You're fine."

Baze left Chirrut curled up in the back of Tynnra's beat up impala, legs sprawled wide across the seat and a dopey smile the only sign he was still awake. He walked home, smoked another joint, and collapsed into bed nearing 4 am.

 

  
III FRIDAY - Two weeks ago

The bathroom stall was littered with nonsense. Badly spelled jokes, the dark glue remainder of stickers that had been peeled away; a handful of numbers that linked, no doubt, to unfortunate ex-girlfriends. Duct taped above the toilet was a advertizement for a concert that had been held last winter. Aside from the eclectic mess of graffiti and decoration, the bathroom was clean. More like the bar was trying to give the shitty bar vibe without actually offending anyone's senses. It was the kind of place that emulated one culture and catered to another.

Baze had wandered in for the one dollar drink night.

Baze was drunk enough now that fitting the first button of his jeans through its hole was rather more of a challenge than he'd expected. Why he had thought buying a pair of pants with two buttons was a good idea, he'll never know. Clearly he hadn't been thinking far enough ahead. He'd managed to pop the first through when the door to the bathroom banged open and someone thundered in. The door to the stall beside Baze rattled loudly in the tiled room, followed by, "Oi! It's taken you ass."

Baze twisted to look at the door behind him, now receiving the same treatment as the first, before someone on the other side groaned, "Fuuuuck".

The stall to his right was apparently occupied as well and there was another whispered curse.

The infernal button finally found its rightful place and Baze opened the stall door, expecting to be pushed out of the way by a drunk student, and instead coming eye to pocket with someones ass. His eyes flashed to the mirror, locking first on to the flushed face and vaguely familiar flat blue eyes and then down to the reflected broadcast of the guy peeing into the sink. Baze's mind tripped over itself trying to place _how_ he knew this guy before finally blurting, "What the fuck?"

"Uhm..."

Baze's eyes shot back up to the face gaping in the mirror.

Another of the stalls rattled open behind him, the kid's eyes widening in unseeing horror, as a large man stepped into the bathroom. The kid on the counter whispered another soft "fuck" while Baze whipped around to look at the bouncer eye to eye.

The bristly mouth opened to roar, "What the HELL-" and Baze's hand shot out to grab the guy off of the sink before his brain had time to say yes or no to the decision. It was sure as hell shouting " _no"_ now as the kid stumbled down after his shirt, yelping in embarrassment because of course he hadn't stopped peeing. Baze heard another outraged roar behind him and they were running, the swinging bathroom door slamming against the outer wall as they burst through and into the bar proper, Baze pushing people out of their way as the guy behind him cursed him out in a rambling litany of slurred insults.

If the bouncer was still chasing they couldn't hear it over the sound of the bar. Baze shouted, "Stairs!" As loudly as he could in a warning before carefully maneuvered the two of them down and onto the sidewalk outside. There was the distant sound of another door slamming and Baze pushed himself to continue running, while a hand wrapped around his to pry it from the guy's shirt, cool fingers slipping into its place. They ran, until Baze could feel the growing cramp in his side, and the kid behind him was panting between his giggling laughter.

Baze was fighting to keep his breath even as they turned off the block and he easily pushed the other man into an alley, pinning him to a wall and frowning at the grinning face. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

The guy gave another hitched laugh, a wide smile with too-much teeth. "I just ran through the bar with my dick out." Baze groaned, rubbed a hand over his face and chanced a look down. Not just the bar then. "Hey wait," The guy slurred. "Do I know you?" He frowned. "You sound... I think I'd remember you. You're kinda... hot boy."

Baze's eye snapped up from the limp dick hanging between them and frowned. "You can't-" He bit his lip and huffed. "Does that line ever work?"

The guy grinned, shrugged his shoulders against the rough brick and giggled. "I dunno. I've never used it before." He looked sleepy as he added, " 'm Chirrut."

Baze went to respond, really, but his brain snagged on the name halfway through opening his mouth to respond. He stood, mouth hanging open just the slightest as he parsed over the name. Baze laughed, the memory of last weekend's brief stint as piggy-back giver pushing its way to the forefront of his mind. "How do you manage to get into all this trouble?" He didn't get a response.

There was a fist in his shirt collar, and a mouth mashing against his before he could protest. Chirrut's teeth biting at his lips, chapped upper lip scratching against the scratch of Baze's mustache. Baze winced, pulled back enough to fix the angle of Chirrut's head and decide _what the hell?_ , before surging forward and back into a better, more controlled, kiss.

Chirrut, it seemed, liked to bite. His mouth seemed to lead with his teeth, his tongue only briefly darting out to poke at Baze's. He tasted like beer and seemed too drunk to really notice what Baze was doing until Baze slid his tongue over those ridiculous gums that dominated Chirrut's smile, and suddenly he was a shivering hot line pressed to Baze's chest. Chirrut's still undone fly seemed terribly fortunate now. There was a gentle tug at his own belt and Baze groaned into Chirrut's mouth, chancing a glance down to see Chirrut's cock had perked up between them and Chirrut's hands fumbling with the double set of buttons that Baze had already hated before this.

He cursed, pushed Chirrut's hands back toward his own lap and yanked the buttons from their hold. Wily hands and long fingers pushed past the fly, sliding over his crotch through the soft cotton of his boxer briefs. "Fuck." He leaned forward, pinning Chirrut to the wall and pressing his forehead to his warm shoulder. "Fuuuuck" He repeated, Chirrut snickering into his ear. And then, seeming to have just noticed it, latched on with his teeth biting too hard before suckling obscenely at the edge, stroking apologetically with his tongue and causing a synapse somewhere in Baze's mind to just snap.

Baze dragged his hands to Chirrut's hips, wrapped his hand around to tug at the soft, hot skin, up and over the tip of Chirrut's cock, up and down. Chirrut's response was another laugh, breathier this time, enough to keep Baze's pride from stinging. In retaliation Chirrut shoved his tongue into Baze's ear proper which…Baze pulled back to frown at the grinning idiot.

"Hey!"

Baze froze, the smile slipped from Chirrut's face. Baze glanced to the empty end of the alley and frowned.

"Assholes!" Chirrut's face was tilted up toward the sky like he'd just discovered god and Baze, reluctantly, followed his gaze to look into the face of their accuser. "I am trying to finish my dissertation and you _do not_ get to fuck under my window." The girl's head ducked back into the light of her room, Baze glanced back at the still gaping Chirrut only to leap back a moment later as cool liquid splashed over his head.

"What the," He glanced back at the empty window, down to the empty alleyway and stood, staring with his mouth open until the taste of coffee dripping into his mouth reminded him to shut it. "I." He puffed his lips out and frowned. He stood for a long moment of confusion, hands out at his side, dick pushing his fly open and the wall in front of him lacking any sign of the drunk it had previously been supporting. Baze glanced around the empty alley and cursed.

_How in the hell?_

Baze licked his lips, buttoned his pant, and took one more glance around the alley on the off chance he'd somehow missed something. Empty. He sighed, and walked home.

 

  
IV SUNDAY - one week ago

Baze slipped out the back, waving faintly at the manager still poking around in the small office corner of the back room. He took a breath of the fresh night air, his first breath of something scented with zero trace of coffee since that morning. He glanced over the road, waited for the next car to pass and dodged across, slipping into the small bar directly across from the coffee shop. The bar was a dark place. Red walls and brown tile floor. High shelves lining the room hosted a variety of knick knacks. Old signs, weird masks. It looked like someone had found their grandfathers collection of garage sale finds and decorated with nothing but.

Baze took his shot of whiskey, grabbed his beer and wove his way toward the less crowded end of the bar. It wasn't too busy yet. The first people popping in after work. Baze saw his classmate, that Jeb guy, pass through the door and ducked his head, avoiding eye contact. He just wanted to relax. He didn't need any reminders of the last week. He watched the bar fill, nursed his beer. He rolled the empty glass across the table faintly, contemplating getting a second. A hand clapped down to his right and Baze smothered a wince as his eyes found the familiar face. "Baze! Hey man."

Baze gave a stuttered nod. "Hey." Now he was really going to need a second drink. Or use the empty glass as an excuse to leave.

"Man, have you started that essay for Eastern Civ? It's all going _way_ over my head man."

Baze shrugged, leaning forward to try and get the bartender's attention. "I'm not worried."

"No way man, really?" Jeb clapped him on the shoulder, Baze shot him a look and he seemed to pause, taking a long look at Baze's face before he laughed. "Oh, duh! Dude. Right. You probably grew up with all this stuff."

Baze rolled his eyes, let his hands nervously tap his wallet against the counter. Maybe that would get the bartender's attention. "No, I just pay attention in class." Baze tuned out Jeb's response, not interested in what the guy had to say about the rpg he was always playing in class. He'd been halfway to lifting his empty beer glass out of habit when he heard the shout from the bar. Faint over the noise of the room. There was a funny clenching in his stomach. He frowned into his glass.

Another shout, "Hot boy!"

Why did that sound familiar? He glanced down the bar and there, standing on the crossbars of his stool, was an uncomfortably familiar face, gummy smile and waving arms, his eyes beaming like headlights in the dim bar, way off the mark of where Baze sat.

"OI. Bartender!" Chirrute shouted, twisting from his position to look behind the bar. "Make that two!"

Baze frowned, the familiar view of Chirrut's ass hovering far above where it should be. This was nowhere near the last bar they'd met in. How did their circles keep crossing? Baze sat, not quite sulking in his spot while he waited for Chirrut to do… whatever he was gonna do. He was trying not to think about the last time they'd met. Or its disappointing conclusion. He watched Chirrut slap what looked like a very thick wad of ones down on the counter, before dropping down off the stool and stood frowning into the crowded bar with two drinks in hand. Baze frowned. His two bright blue and purple drinks. Baze slapped the counter, distracting Jeb from the rant he'd lost himself in on the merits of choosing the open palm or closed fist paths, whatever that meant. "Sorry man, I gotta help this guy."

"What guy?" Jeb's voice whined from behind him, but he was already weaving his way through the crowd.

Chirrut startled slightly when Baze stopped in front of him and gave a half-assed greeting. But the surprise morphed into a grin. Baze winced as one of the drinks was pressed into his hand. Chirrut's cold hand slipping into his elbow. "Wonderful, you've saved me the trouble. Find us a booth, would you?"

Baze carried them through the bar, aiming for the booths tucked away in the corner, one or two left blissfully empty in favor of spots closer to the bar. He stopped them at the edge, waiting for Chirrut to release his arm before sliding into the cheap leather seat.

So Baze had managed to get a second drink. He glanced toward the bright monstrosity. But had it really been worth it? He stirred the straw through the purple and blue, the colors mixing into a bleak gray color. He glanced toward Chirrut, who had sat down directly beside him and immediately wrapped his lips around the straw, half sucking, half chewing on the end as he kept himself turned toward Baze.

Baze glanced away, quickly, eyes falling back to the unappealing drink. He took a hesitant sip and winced. The medicine thick berry flavor managed to bring the long island ice tea back to tasting like alcohol. "Please tell me that's your first drink."

Chirrut smirked and held up two fingers.

Baze took another sip of his drink. At least Chirrut wasn't as drunk as he'd seemed last weekend. Might be after that second drink, but not yet. Baze reconsidered as Chirrut shifted closer, that smirk never leaving his face. Baze was still surprised the guy had even remembered that they had met, let alone that stupid nick name. The smirk made it obvious he remembered _everything_. Baze wasn't sure how he felt about that. Not his best moment. But it had been…nice until the sudden ending.

Baze inhaled as a hand slid to his thigh, higher than anyone could justify after _just_ meeting back up after a week. Baze spluttered, coughed around a mouthful of purple drink that had gone down the wrong pipe and did his best to ignore the hot hand still curled around his thigh, uncomfortably close to... Baze cleared his throat and shot Chirrut a look. The boy was grinning, eyes crinkled with lines and glittering in the low light of the bar.

"Are you… on something?" People didn't really get this happy from alcohol, did they?

Chirrut giggled, but his "No" sounded petulant before he sucked down another quarter of his drink. He slid closer, that last 6 inches between them slipping away to nothing. "I'm really glad I heard you over there." He said it right into Baze's ear, breath hot and smelling of berry flavoring. The soft tickle of air over his ear felt like so much more for the reminder of Chirrut biting down on it the last time he'd been so close. Baze managed a strangled "huh?" before Chirrut was continuing. "All surly and quiet. I would have missed you if your friend hadn't been trying his hardest to get you to answer with more than two words." He rested his chin on Baze's shoulder, the flash of a grin just visible in Baze's periphery.

Baze cleared his throat and grabbed his drink, taking a long swallow, hoping it somehow made him look casual but already knowing he'd failed. Ignoring the growing heat in his gut he turned to ask Chirrut whatever came to him first but his eyes snagged on the sight of Chirrut's tongue playing faintly with the mangled straw end, pointed pink muscle pushing the straw this way and that, his voice failed him and he stared a long moment. Finally he looked to the rest of Chirrut's face and found Chirrut looked equally distracted, eyes pointed vaguely toward Baze's lap. Baze gave him a nudge. "Hey."

Chirrut blinked rapidly, face turning up toward Baze's and smirked. His stomach plummeted. That couldn't be a good sign. Sure enough that hand too high on his thing was sliding farther up, fingers dancing across his groin and his knee shot up into the bottom of the table. The rattling of the glasses on cheap linoleum covered Baze's shocked hiss of breath. "Fuck. Chirrut what..."

Chirrut grinned, fingers tracing the thick line of his cock through the rough jeans. "I thought my memory must have been wrong when I woke up thinking about this but..." He laughed, "Seems it was right after all."

Chirrut gave another questing rub against his crotch and Baze's hand was clenching into a fist on the table, voice wavering in surprise, "Ah. oh." The jeans were _not_ comfortable, and Chirrut's fingers were not shy in the least. Pinching gently around the head of his cock, rubbing over the line it was pushing into the fabric, back and forth. Chirrut, the bastard, was still sipping at his drink, face turned toward the rest of the bar casually, while Baze shook beside him.

Baze took a hitching breath through his nose, ignored the way his left hand was shaking against the tabletop and lifted his drink, to take a sip, or to _pretend_ to take a sip. Whatever would distract him from the want pulsing through his body. The sweet syrup of the drink helped to sooth his suddenly dry mouth. A few too many hard draws on the straw left the drink low and the glass clattered loudly to the table when slender fingers pressed down far between his legs. The ice rattled in the cup and Baze spotted at least one pair of eyes glancing his way. A confused face where Baze sent a hopefully apologetic smile. It felt more like a grimace.

"Chirrut." He whispered through clenched teeth.

"You know my name, but I don't know yours?" Chirrut grinned. Spoke before Baze could respond. "It's okay hot boy." He leaned closer, propped his chin on Baze's shoulder and teased at his ear. "Should I stop?"

Baze groaned. It was… He _should_ have said yes, but the memory of their last encounter reared its head, the reminder of disappointment made his head jerk in a negative and his teeth close down on his lip, as if it might somehow keep him in some kind of control over his shaking body. Baze's face was warm, his ears hot and certainly glowing red, Chirrut's tongue sneaking out to slide over the shell, like he'd done last time, and Baze couldn't bite down a curse.

Chirrut set his glass down on the table and lifted his hand to Baze's face, turning Baze his way and planting his lips firmly to Baze's. It was less messy than last time, Chirrut still sober enough to keep control of his mouth. The sucking and biting was already familiar though and Baze winced away, glancing nervously toward the rest of the bar. He hoped his red face would be believed as a symptom of the alcohol. Or the kiss. A desperate hope that the strangers surrounding them would think it caused by anything but the sneaky fingers curling down to rub over his balls through tight jeans. The hand rubbing at him with purpose despite their public location.

His erection gave a uncomfortable jerk, the heat of pre-come flushing through him as a pearl of liquid clung to the fabric surrounding the head. Another pulse leaking out to join the first. Baze had a brief moment to realize, he was either going to be walking out of this bar with an extremely sensitive erection, or a snotty mess in his pants. There was no other outcome foreseeable, and when Chirrut's fingers found the growing stain of liquid and *rubbed* he knew exactly which one it was gonna be.

Baze just managed to keep the groan from spilling past his lips, the sound growling from his chest instead as he leant forward to rest his head in his crossed arms. The table was sticky, smelled like beer, and hid his face better than he could ever hope to control it as Chirrut rubbed relentlessly at his cock. It was better to let strangers thinking he was too drunk to sit upright than give them all a free show to his gasping mouth and tightly closed eyes. Baze felt a flush of embarrassment, amazed his face could get any warmer. He was 23 years old and he was about to come in his pants like a kid ten years younger.

At his left Chirrut laughed at something, a bright, happy noise that seemed out of place in the bar. He rubbed his fingers over the damp cloth trapping the head of Baze's cock, and Baze's ears flushed even hotter with a lurch of shame, before his abdomen tensed and his orgasm was spilling out of him. Baze bit down any reaction he might have had, his heart beat pounding in his ears, clenched jaw aching as the rush of pleasure slowly slipped from his grasp and left him curled up over the tabletop.

A warm hand had dropped to rub between Baze's shoulders. Wide palm splayed and soothing. And when the warm hand retreated in the wake of a tell tale shout from the bar, Baze couldn't hide his disappointed groan. Chirrut was rustling around beside him while another of his poor friends gave a shout of "Chirrut!".

"Fuck." Chirrut muttered, the curse followed by a clumsy scratching noise. "Just. A second." He answered, though his friends had no chance of hearing him from the booth, then leaned close, pressing a kiss to Baze's ear and sliding his hand into his back pocket. Baze couldn't help but huff at the sudden squeeze, shifting to watch as Chirrut unfolded his plastic cane and left the booth. Chirrut hesitated a moment after standing, turning toward the booth with his mouth open, swollen lips framing white teeth and the point of his tongue. Finally he said, through that toothy grin, "Always a pleasure, Hot boy." Another shout of his name from the bar and the smile fell, and indignant look on his face as he tapped away. His grumbled, "Alright, alright," fading as Baze watched him leave.

Baze sat for a long uncomfortable moment as his breath evened and his dick softened enough that the rub of denim wasn't going to be too uncomfortable on sensitive flesh. The unpleasant cling of wet fabric to his leg was unavoidable. He considered the dark bar and finally peeled himself out of the booth. He downed what was left of Chirrut's drink for the hell of it, for the extra courage, and made his way toward the bathroom, trying like hell to walk normally.

Baze did his best to wipe out whatever he could in the bathroom, wincing through the whole ordeal. When he finally left the stall the slowly forming wrinkles in his forehead that his mom loved to tease him about looked sharper somehow, and the last of the drunken haze he'd achieved had mostly worn off, leaving him feeling tired and disgusted. He splashed cool water over his face, hoping to somehow improve the lingering sense of filth, and only managed to obliterate the last of his buzz. He flipped a finger at his reflection. That bastard just kept making bad decisions.

For all the effort he put into wiping out the gunk from his boxers, the remaining film dried and flaked as he walked home, making his thighs itch like nothing he'd felt before. He stomped into the bathroom as soon as he was home, flinging the contents of his pockets onto the counter and stripping himself from the sweaty regret. The napkin crumpled on top of Baze's phone was an off white, purple stained rag that Baze could not for the life of him understand the existence of. He stared at it for a long moment before finally unfolding the thing. Scrawled on the inside were what were probably meant to be numbers.

Baze stood, naked under the harsh bathroom lights, squinting at the cryptic message. If the purple stain and the grope he'd received in it's transfer hadn't been enough evidence to point to Chirrut, the hand writing would have. It looked exactly like what you'd expect a blind drunk to write on a napkin. Scribbles.

Baze cursed, scrambling for his phone and sitting down on the toilet, napkin spread over his knees and his fingers clutching his phone like a lifeline. Was that a 7 or a 1? Baze typed out his best guess, shooting off a quick text, **[Chirrut?]**. He sat, leg bouncing, heel slapping gently against the tile floor. Five minutes marked the end of his patience, his fingers re-typing the number with ones in the place of the previous sevens. Another **[Chirrut?]** , another anxious wait. He tried again, a single one and a single seven. Another text, the numbers swapped.

The phone buzzed, Baze so surprised he almost sent it flying to the floor, before swiping the message open.

**[what?]**

**[Is this Chirrut?]**

**[nah sorry]**

Baze swore, resisting the urge to throw the phone at the wall. He bit his lip on the frustration bubbling in his throat and forced himself to set the phone aside. He took a deep breath and twisted the nob in the shower toward something near scalding. The spray of water sounded better raining down on his head than pounding against the plastic walls of the shower. Baze let the water fall on the line of his spine, the cool tile pressed to his forehead. He was not going to get upset about a random kid from the bar. People had drunken hook ups all the time.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, the water running down his face trying to follow the flow of air before giving up and falling to the shower floor. He was gonna go to bed. Get some sleep, and he was going to forget about that sloppy phone number.

 

  
V SUNDAY - yesterday

He didn't know whose house it was. Wasn't sure if it was Greek housing or just the mansion of some rich asshole. Wasn't sure why there was a celebration going on. But Saw and Bail had dragged him along and now he was stuck hiding in the kitchen with a few other claustrophobic students and nursing a pbr. It took all his willpower not to twist his face with every sip. He was contemplating how difficult it would be to push his way through the hallway, the living room, the foyer, when one of the other kitchen lurkers moved closer, shooting him an uncomfortable smile. His visible discomfort was not, apparently, enough to keep him from trying to engage Baze in conversation.

"I hate these things." The guy said, voice muffled by the rim of his cup.

Baze eyed him a long moment. He could, reluctantly, admit that the guy was kinda cute. Shorter than he was, dark hair, dark eyes. Baze shrugged. "Solo cups?"

It got him a laugh, a surprised, drunken giggle. "No, no. I mean yes. But Parties." The guy shrugged. "You look like a kindred spirit."

Baze shrugged, obviously he was, standing here leaning against a kitchen counter avoiding said party, but he'd give the guy some credit. The lip bite spoke loud and clear. "Friends dragged me along. You?"

"Yeah. Something like that. I'm Wedge. By the way."

"Baze."

"So. Were you dragged here to, and I quote, "get laid and forget that loser'?" Wedge's face did not look as confident as his voice, or statement warranted, but he was trying.

"I would've been if I told my friends anything about my love life."

Wedge grinned widely at that, inching a little bit closer along the counter. "Well then, if I can find something a little stronger will you join me in forgetting said losers?"

They did. One round of vodka. Another. The guy was younger than him, and Baze wondered if he should feel worse about drinking with someone clearly under 21, but Wedge kept up with him easily, drinking greedily and doing some clearly needed rambling about his ex.

"Biggs." Wedge scoffed, after relaxing his face from the wincing response to another shot. "Can you believe that? What a stupid nick name." Wedge was pouting faintly as he mumbled, "He wasn't even that big. Misleading jerk." Baze raised an eyebrow and gave a silent cheers with his own glass. "What about you, what was your boys name?"

"Oh no, not like. Not, I wasn't dating anyone. Just had a couple." He huffed, not wanting to admit he kept hooking up with a stranger in public. "He was uh…just kind of a mess."

"A hot mess?" Wedge asked, face knowing.

Baze huffed. "Hell, this is a party, maybe you know him." Baze's tongue was pressed to the back of his teeth, ready to say it when someone at the door stole the word from his lips. The name rung through the relative calm kitchen, and Baze groaned. He turned, freezing like a deer at the familiar face of Chirrut's friend Tynnra.

Her eyes bore into his, widening after a her brain caught up with the sight. "You!" Baze waved, a small awkward thing. Wedge's head shot from one to the other. Tynnra bit her lip, glancing around the room and finally returning her attention to Baze. "I don't suppose I could ask for some help?"

Baze sighed, shot Wedge an apologetic smile. "What happened?"

If nothing else, Tynnra looked genuinely relieved at his implied agreement. "I'm not sure yet, I can't find him. Either he's left or he's in the locked bathroom upstairs."

"The." Baze ran a hand over his face. "I'm not breaking down a door."

She waved a hand. "No need. I can pick it open I just…if it's him I don't want to invade his privacy."

"But it's fine if I do it?" She shot him a look, "And if it's someone else?"

She shrugged. "I knocked. And shouted. If someone _is_ in there they probably need help, regardless of who it is."

Baze shook his head, vaguely irritated that he couldn't seem to escape Chirrut's madness no matter how he tried, and shot Wedge another frustrated look. "Sorry. I gotta." Wedge didn't look surprised, just gave him a knowing nod of agreement and waved him toward the door. Tynnra gave him another hesitant smile and led him through the door, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the writhing mess of bodies trying to dance in the crowded house. The upstairs was blissfully clear of guests, once they'd hit the stairwell the trek had become significantly easier. Anyone else up here was tucked away in bedrooms.

She stopped in front of a pale wood door, knocking loudly and waiting a beat. Shouted "Chirrut" and waited another moment before rattling the doorknob in it's place. She shrugged. "Worth a shot." She pulled a bobby pin from her hair and slipped it into the simple circular lock on the door. The scratch of metal on metal was a soft, barely there irritant as Baze waited. Something clicked, and Tynnra twisted the handle, backing up with her hands raised in the air as if she were innocent of whatever Baze was about to subject himself to.

Baze slipped through the door, and stopped in his tracks.

This guy. Seriously.

Chirrut had managed, while seated on the toilet, to lean over to rest his crossed arms on the sink counter, head pillowed on his arms and face slack with sleep. His lips were parted, shiny with drool, and Baze briefly thanked the universe that the bathroom didn't smell like vomit or shit. It made it easier to appreciate how adorable the smashed sleepy face was.

Baze stepped closer, strong legs slowly coming into view from behind the counter. He stood, staring down at bare thighs, and rubbed a hand over his face. He was gonna need another drink after this. Another step, Baze patted Chirrut on the cheek. He spotted a solo cup spilled onto the floor and after giving it a suspicious sniff filled it with water. It was probably fine. He flicked a bit across the lax face. "Chirrut. Come on."

It was a relief to hear the mumbled, "Fuck off." Chirrut's face twisting into an agonized frown, a bad sign if he was already feeling hungover. Baze nudged him with the plastic cup. First pressing the bottom against his hand, and when he got no response he gave a plastic bop to the nose, the forehead, whatever the edge of the cup found until Chirrut lurched away from the counter to bat at the cup like a fly.

Baze pressed the plastic cup firmly into Chirrut's hands, keeping hold of the water until he had grabbed on with both hands and Baze was confident he wouldn't spill the water and make his job harder. Baze watched, making sure Chirrut had drained the cup before gently taking it from his grasp. His face wrinkled with uncertainty. "If you need to pee again now's the time."

Chirrut blinked slowly up toward Baze's general area, bit his lip and seemed to decide, "Turn around."

"You're already," Baze rolled his eyes and turned to stare at the door. "Whatever fine, I've turned around."

He ignored the sound of Chirrut peeing into the toilet. Waited after the sound had stopped for Chirrut to give him some sort of verbal go ahead. The closest he got was Chirrut softly blowing a raspberry into the air. Baze shook his head and turned, pulling Chirrut's arms over his shoulders so he could lift him away from the toilet and prop him against the sink. Chirrut's jeans were tighter than they had any right to be, Baze struggling to get them up and over uncooperative thighs and finally buttoned up. He'd just gotten started on the belt when Chirrut started to slip down the counter and Baze lunged to keep him upright, choosing to ignore the belt as he hefted him up into a bridal carry. If asked later, Baze would insist it was only possible because the alcohol made him think he could do it. He wouldn't want to encourage anyone to jump into his arms whenever they felt like it.

The door was still propped open by the door latch. Baze stood, trying to squeeze the toe of his boot between the counter and the door's lip, before he remembered his accomplice. "Tynnra. Open the door for me."

The door swung inward, slowly revealing Tynnra's concerned face before she backed up to give Baze room in the hallway. "Where do you want him?" Baze asked, absolutely not wanting to hear an answer other than _this bedroom right here_ but getting one anyway.

Tynnra, to her credit, looked genuinely sorry as she gestured for him to follow her down the stairs. In the end Chirrut was laid out on an odd, sort of padded bench in the foyer. Close to the doorway out. Tynnra booked an uber. "Thanks. Again. I'll stay with him."

"How long is your wait?"

She rolled her eyes. "45 minutes? Busy night."

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Wedge, leaning against the door frame into the foyer and giving him a little wave. He held up two solo cups and Baze sighed. "I'll be around," He told her, making an effort to keep his eyes from straying back to Chirrut sprawled out asleep. "If you need help come find me."

She nodded, and Baze slipped away to take a drink from Wedge, who leaned around Baze to peak at the spectacle in the foyer. "He's cute."

Baze sucked at his teeth a moment before taking a sip of beer and giving a nod. "Yeah. I said mess, right?"

Wedge tipped the bottom of the cup up, gently, enough to get Baze to take a longer sip but not enough to seem threatening. The hesitant smile stretching over his flushed face made it clear he was teasing. "Wanna drink more and forget about it?"

Baze glanced back, Tynnra politely turned to look elsewhere, Chirrut's hand flopped off the bench and resting on the tile floor. "Sure."

Wedge grabbed his hand, leading him not toward the kitchen for alcohol but up the stairs, casually pressing his ear to bedroom doors as he went and finally testing a door he deemed quiet. Wedge dragged him in and pressed him to the closed door with a kiss. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was a surprise. People usually saw Baze's height and didn't bother trying to push him around. The taste of vodka under the sour beer flavor in both of their mouths was a good indicator of what had Wedge so eager. Wedge sucked at his lips, twined his tongue with Baze's eagerly. It was messy, frantic. Pretty damn good.

There was no biting. And Baze groaned aloud to himself at the realization that he'd been getting to like that. Really like it. Wedge pulled back, crooked grin slipping into a thoughtful expression at whatever he saw on Baze's face. He bit his lip, squinted up at Baze and finally said, "You should give hot mess your number."

Baze gaped blankly at the wall across the room for a hazy minute. He should. Chirrut _had_ tried to give him his number. Or at least, Baze was pretty sure that's what the scribble had been. There was an awkward moment where they stood like that, Wedge still pressed to his front and Baze trying to make his brain work. "Ah." Wedge interrupted, "There might be paper in the desk?"

Baze's eyes leaped to the desk squeezed between the bed and the front wall and lurched toward it, gracelessly pushing Wedge away as he stumbled and clutched at the edge of the wood, opening drawers one after the other. Finally he found a vivid green tablet of sticky notes and a pen, and wrote out his number, drawing each number thick, and pressing down hard into the paper pad. He traced over the numbers a couple times with the pen and then tossed it aside, the plastic clattering against the floor as he ripped the top note from the pad.

He froze up at the door, shooting Wedge an uncomfortable look. _What to say?_

"Ah. Thanks?"

Wedge tossed him a drunken salute. A wide grin. "Good luck."

Baze's feet managed to stay steady under him as he briskly walked back through that hallway, fingers rubbing nervously over the grooves he'd worn into the paper. hopefully it'd be enough for Chirrut to feel. He thundered down the steps, the door open and Tynnra supporting a mostly still out of it Chirrut. "Hey!" Baze shouted, jogging closer. He folded the paper and slipped it into Chirrut's back pocket before taking the other arm and helping her carry him to the uber.

He watched the car drive away, stared down at the concrete, and glanced toward his watch. It wasn't too late yet. He began the walk back to his place. He;d had enough of the party.

 

 

TODAY - 8:12 AM

_You're the Hot boy!_

Baze stood, leaning over the counter and gaping up toward Chirrut's surprised face. He watched that face turn a bemused _hurt_. "Why didn't you call me?"

The entire room had quietened at Chirrut's first outburst, making this second statement clearly audible despite the three tables between the counter and Chirrut. Three tables full of student staring at him, the cafe having clearly decided to take Chirrut's side. Baze felt frozen in place. "I..." He flinched back and caught his coworker Rebecca's eye. She looked distinctly unimpressed. Perhaps Baze should have been friendlier with his coworkers, but it was too late to change that now.

"Well? Why didn't you call him?"

Baze scowled and twisted back to look toward Chirrut. "I tried. Your handwriting is awful." Baze's voice was strained as he continued. "Why didn't _you_ call _me_?"

"What?" Chirrut snapped.

Baze shot Rebecca a desperate glance, but she only handed the change over to the customer standing by the register and said, "Don't you dare try to take your break this early."

Baze sighed, grabbed the paper cup she placed meaningfully by the espresso machine and returned to work. His motions interrupted by further silence and another damning, "What?" From across the room.

"Chirrut." Baze growled. "I am at work."

The image of Chirrut that Baze managed to catch through quick glances away from the drink he was making showed his clearly befuddled expression, frowning down at his computer with one earphone dangling onto the table. He spotted his eyes widening and suddenly Chirrut was retracing his path to the counter, walking stick held close to his body and an apologetic smile flashing toward every table he passed. Chirrut stopped at the pickup counter and the smile was gone.

"What do you mean ' _why didn't I call you_ '?" He angry whispered at Baze.

"I put it in your pocket last night."

Chirrut scoffed. "Last night? I've barely been awake long enough to-" He stopped. "Last night?" His mouth was opened, pouty lips shiny and displaying white teeth and pink tongue. Baze winced and looked back at his work. "You saw me last night?" He didn't sound great now. Sounded nervous.

"Yeah. Last night." Baze spat. He stopped to soften his voice and shout out the order on the cup, voice moderately pleasant as he called, "Almond Milk, Butterbear Latte!", then turned back to Chirrut. "What the hell were you doing last night?"

Chirrut pursed his lips, puffed his cheeks and looked for a moment like he had decided to ignore the question and return to his seat. "If you must know I was drowning my sorrows after moping all week because _somebody_ didn't call me."

Baze growled and grabbed the next cup. "So was I, because someone gave me a drawing of a confused snake on a napkin instead of their number." He flicked on the milk frother. "Doesn't mean I got blackout drunk."

"Hey!" Chirrut said, breaking the trend of whispering, "I don't need your sanctimonious crap."

"I fucking like you, okay." Baze growled. "And I was worried, so I helped your friend get you out of there and slipped my number in your pocket." Chirrut opened his mouth to argue with that, and Baze barreled on, "I marked up the paper pretty good too. I thought maybe you could feel the numbers."

Chirrut's mouth snapped shut, teeth clomping together in a way that made Baze wince. "I like you too, dick." Chirrut pouted a moment after that, listening to Baze while Baze tried his best not to get distracted by him. "Wait." Chirrut interrupted again, "You helped Tynny last night?"

Baze grunted in agreement as he snapped a cap in place.

" _You're Baze?!_ You!" Chirrut spluttered a moment, eyes wide as he seemed to work through the first and last times they met. "Why didn't you just find my number in your call history?" He snapped. Baze stared at the foamy milk in horror. He hadn't thought of that. _Why_ hadn't he thought of that? Chirrut's voice bit back into his ear, "You! You idiot! Come here."

Baze set the order down. "Wait Chirrut-"

"Where's your shirt collar, I'm gonna throttle you."

"Wait, Chirrut!" Chirrut managed to find a grip on Baze's apron, pulling him down into a kiss rather than the throttle he'd threatened.

There were a couple laughs, an odd, underwhelming applause. Baze jerked away, finding various amused faces in the cafe, and turned to find Rebecca clapping her hands together lazily.

"You done?"

"I..." Baze wiped the saliva from his lips, and Chirrut leaned far over the counter to softly say, "I'll be here all afternoon. We can go eat after you get off?" Baze nodded. A jerky, shell-shocked agreement. Chirrut grinned. "Does this mean I get free drinks?"

Baze pushed the laughing maniac away from him. "Yeah I'm done."

**Author's Note:**

> As always comments are greatly appreciated, though I'm awful at responding to them because social interaction is hard. Constructive criticism is welcome but handle me with kid gloves, cause I'm a mess.


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